


Blood and Bloom

by Misty_Reeyus



Category: Tales of Berseria
Genre: F/M, Half-Sibling Incest, Only-Barely-of-Age Sex, Underage Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 04:48:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10779882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misty_Reeyus/pseuds/Misty_Reeyus
Summary: Teresa loves Oscar and never stops.Be it as a sister, or as a lover.





	Blood and Bloom

**Author's Note:**

> im perfectly aware this is fucked up you dont gotta tell me twice but i just had to get it out of my system

Teresa is taken in by the Dragonia household when she is ten years old.

With Mother dead, Teresa truly has no one. She is the bastard child of the Lord and a commoner, too lowborn to be part of the family, too highborn to truly be just another servant of the manor. They stuff her in a maid’s outfit, assign her a maid’s duties, have her sleep in the maid’s quarters, but in their eyes, contempt is all she sees.

Here, the only thing Teresa is to anyone is a disgrace.

(Teresa cooks. Teresa cleans. Teresa cries herself to sleep.)

* * *

Teresa doesn’t speak unless she’s spoken to, and hardly ever does anyone speak to her. The Lord and Lady and Heir only ever turn their noses, refusing to acknowledge that she so much as exists. The other servants awkwardly avoid her, always stopping their chatter whenever she enters the commonroom and only starting up again after she’s taken her leave. The head maid gives Teresa her assigned tasks every morning, but never bothers to check up on her progress throughout the day.

Teresa is lonely, so she gets her work done faster than anyone.

When her tasks are completed, she always has plenty of time to spare, so Teresa takes to spending afternoons wandering the woods that lie just behind the manor. She gazes upon the trees and the grass and the sky, and thinks back on those bright, sunny days when it was just her and Mother, gathering firewood and scavenging for berries, living their pleasant peasant life together. The memories are as peaceful as they are painful.

“Hey, Miss Maid?”

Today, Teresa is abruptly jolted out of her daydreams by a high-pitched voice and a tug at her skirt, and when she looks down, a boyish face stares up at her. Teresa only needs a few more seconds to recognize him as the Dragonias’ second son, the four-year-old who always wiggles in his seat at the dinner table and picks at his peas.

Pointing upwards, the boy asks, “Can you get him for me?”

Teresa doesn’t understand who “he” is until she follows the line of the outstretched finger and sees a beetle resting on the truck of a tree, at a position too high for the boy to reach. She nearly balks; she’s never liked bugs, and the thought of willingly touching one is nothing short of utterly disgusting. But this child is a pure-blooded member of the family, one of her masters, and she is duty-bound to obey him.

Swallowing her revulsion, Teresa carefully grabs the grubby, squirming insect before dropping it into the eager boy’s open palm.

“Thank you!” he chimes, then redirects his attentions to the bug. “Don’t you fly off like that again. I need you to stay in my room.”

Teresa furrows her brow, and speaks before she can stop herself. “Are you allowed to keep bugs as pets, milord?”

She wants to retract the words immediately. She has spoken out of line; it is not her place to question a young master of House Dragonia.

Yet, the child does not seem to care.

“Father and Mother’ll scold me if they see him, but they don’t really pay attention, so it’ll be fine.” He pauses, glancing up at her cautiously. “You won’t tell them, will you?”

“I won’t.” Teresa has no reason to.

“Good.” The boy beams. “Say, what are your parents like, Miss Maid?”

Teresa chuckles humorlessly, but it’s not like there’s anything to lose by answering honestly. He’d find out soon enough. “My mother is dead, milord. And my father…is your father, as well.”

The boy cocks his head. “Wait, really?”

Teresa nods.

“Oh, so you’re my sister!”

Teresa stammers.“W-well, no, that’s not really the right way to put it—”

“Why not? We share a father, so you’re my sister!” He apparently doesn’t get that Teresa cannot be his sister when she is not a member of the family to begin with, and she doesn’t know how to explain that to him, either. “So I’ll call you ‘Sister’, okay?”

It’s not okay, it can’t be okay. But the boy is looking up at her with eyes so big and bright that her protests die on her tongue. “I…suppose if that is what you wish, milord, then—”

“And I’m not your lord, my name is Oscar! Just Oscar.”

“I-I could not possibly address you so casually!”

But he pouts, all round-cheeked and shimmery-eyed, and no longer can Teresa refuse. Instead, she bows to him, low and deferential, in an unspoken promise she can’t take back.

“As you wish, Oscar.”

* * *

Oscar is a sweet boy.

True to his word, he starts calling her “Sister”, and though that turns heads at first, gets Teresa dirty looks from both the other servants and Oscar’s parents, nobody ever stops to correct him. Teresa quickly realizes that it’s because they don’t care much for Oscar at all; his older brother is the heir, the one upon whom they’ve placed all their hopes, and Oscar is simply the little brat not worth mentioning.

(They don’t even take notice of how Oscar always plays with his peas and often leaves half his food still on his plate, and when at last Teresa asks him about it herself, he tells her they never serve anything he likes. Teresa bakes a quiche for him the very next day—her mother’s recipe—and when after his first bite, Oscar smiles up at her with cheese all over his face and proclaims _It’s delicious!_ , Teresa decides she’ll definitely have to find the time to make it for him again.)

So they begin actively seeking each other out: lonely children, unwanted in their home, with nobody else to turn to. Every day, after his lessons and her chores, they meet up in the woods to play. Oscar watches in fascination as she sews bracelets out of grass, and eagerly helps her braid flowers into her hair once she’s taught him how. Teresa helps him collect bugs, because even though the critters are still incredibly gross, the way his face lights up at the sight of them makes her chest bloom with warmth.

This time, after Oscar finally lets the beetle she just retrieved for him fly off, he gleefully launches himself at Teresa, tackling her to the ground in a hug. Teresa laughs in surprise but hugs him back—and so wrapped up is she in her cheer, she fails to react before Oscar has already crawled up and lightly pecked her on the mouth.

Teresa blinks, her mirth instantly dissipating, and slowly brings her fingers up to her now tingling lips.

“…Oscar,” she finally manages, her voice trembling, “why did you do that?”

Oscar abruptly seems to realize he just did something wrong, because he fidgets. “Well, you didn’t like it when I gave you those cicada shells last time.” Teresa is still ashamed of that; he meant no ill will when he brought her that pile of bug skeletons, but in her own horror and disgust, she couldn’t help but shriek. “I just thought maybe this would be a better present. I heard that if you love someone, you put your lips on theirs. Father and Mother do it sometimes.”

Oscar is only six, and he is so cute but so naive. He doesn’t understand that even if he loves Teresa, even if he accepts her as family where nobody else does, he is not supposed to kiss her.

Teresa shakes her head. “Oscar, we cannot touch lips like that. It is improper for the two of us.”

He furrows his brow. “But it’s okay for my parents?”

“Yes. Their love is…not the same as ours.” Honestly, Teresa wonders sometimes if the Lord and Lady’s love is even love at all, what with how impersonal their interactions seem, not to mention the mere fact that the Lord had the affair that birthed Teresa to begin with. But they are the heads of House Dragonia, and they may kiss each other as much or as little as they want, whether or not they even mean it at all.

Blood siblings, even half-blood, aren’t allowed that choice.

Moreover, Oscar is far too young.

“It’s not?” Oscar echoes.

“It’s not,” Teresa asserts, firmly meeting his gaze, “You mustn’t kiss me, Oscar. Understand?”

Oscar doesn’t look like he understands one bit, but he nods obediently anyway, and she knows he will take her instructions to heart. Still, he seems upset, his gaze lowering shamefully to the ground.

“…If you want, you may kiss my cheek,” Teresa offers in compensation. “But even then, never do so in the presence of others. Your parents might be cross were they to find out.”

The wrath of his parents is a powerful impetus that Oscar understands all too well, so he winces before nodding again.

“Okay, Sister,” Oscar says, and plants his lips gently, sweetly on her cheek.

Teresa smiles.

* * *

“Take _that_ , filthy daemons! And this, too!”

Teresa hears the cries ringing out well before she’s even within sight of her and Oscar’s secret spot in the woods, and once the special clearing does come into view, she sees Oscar unleashing a series of slashes and thrusts with his wooden sword. He seems so absorbed in the task that Teresa opts to not disturb him just yet, instead ducking behind one of the trees to quietly enjoy the show. Oscar is ten and only began his training in the art of the blade mere months ago, but he already seems to fancy himself a seasoned master, slicing his weapon through each of his invisible enemies without fail.

Teresa muffles a chuckle into her hand. Daemonblight came into being two years ago, and the stories of such monstrous creatures popping up all over the continent, while horrific, are tremendous fuel for a young boy’s wild imagination.

Eventually, Oscar ceases in his devastating attacks, panting hard and triumphantly brandishing his sword up towards the sky. “Did you truly believe you could defeat me? You were your own downfall, foul beasts!”

His victory stance over his imagined foes is so adorably enthused that Teresa simply cannot resist. Since his back is turned, she sneaks up on him, silent yet swift, and her prey doesn’t even notice her presence before she’s already embracing him from behind, yanking him backwards. Oscar squawks, his weapon slipping from his grip, and Teresa laughs aloud as she hits the grass beside the practice sword with her brother firmly trapped in her lap.

“ _Sister_!” Oscar whines, upon glancing over his shoulder and realizing who has captured him in their arms. “You’re not playing fair!”

“Would a daemon play fair, my dear Oscar? No, it would gobble you up without a second thought!” Overcome with levity, Teresa gives a monster’s growl from the back of her throat, then bites lightly at his cheek, nibbling over his flesh as if she were a daemon hoping to feast upon him.

“Gah, gross! Quit it!” Oscar cries, but he’s giggling madly, so Teresa knows better than to take his protests seriously. Her playbites mellow out to a series of deliberately wet kisses peppered all over both sides of his face, until he’s kicking his legs and squealing with laughter and crying out, “I give! I give, you win, _g_ _et off_!”

Teresa finally relents, and once she does, Oscar goes limp against her chest, needing a minute to catch his breath again. Turning in her hold, he levels her with a pout and sticks his tongue out. “That was mean, Sister.”

“My apologies, Oscar.” Teresa bites down on her amusement. “Please forgive me.”

Oscar smirks.

“Never!” he cries, and before Teresa can even realize what’s happening, he’s already whirling in her grasp and pushing at her chest. The next thing she knows, her back is to the grass and Oscar is sitting atop her ribcage, pinning her arms down with his hands, eyes twinkling with boyish mischief. But even then, his vengeance is not complete, and he dives down to bite at her earlobe with an almost _vicious_ zeal.

Teresa gasps and wriggles, and though she’s admittedly not trying all that hard to get up, she’s surprised at how he’s actually able to hold her down. Oscar may be her sweet, soft little brother, but she swears, he’s getting ever stronger by the day. At last, he pulls his lips back from her ear to grin down at her in victory, and Teresa can’t help but stare as the afternoon sun backlights his form, his golden hair taking on an almost ethereal glow as his green eyes shine clear and delighted.

Oscar is strong. Oscar is beautiful.

And surely, Oscar will be an amazing man when he grows up.

* * *

Oscar is the only person in the manor who ever remembers her birthday.

Not that Teresa needs anyone else, because just celebrating together with Oscar is already more than enough—and thankfully, he’s gotten a lot better at gift-giving since the cicada shells and kissing fiascoes. Presents from previous years include new hairpins because her old ones were becoming loose, a set of twirling batons because she was sick of getting splinters from spinning rough old tree branches, and once, even an out-of-print book on rare flower species because he just _knew_ she’d love it to death.

This time, when they meet in their secret spot on the afternoon of Teresa’s nineteenth birthday, Oscar greets her with a warm hug, a kiss to her cheek, and an embossed jewelry box that he gently places in her hands.

“The head maid gave me those, told me they were from my parents.” Oscar scratches the back of his head. “But it’s not as if I’m going to be wearing them, and I figured they would look _really_ beautiful on you.”

Teresa beams eagerly as she opens the box, and when gorgeous, sparkling earrings stare back at her, her heart almost jumps up her throat…but then, realization strikes. She remembers the gossip whispered among the other maids some days ago when they hadn’t noticed Teresa was around the corner:

_The_ _boss_ _went and handed off those engagement heirlooms to Lord Oscar._

_Oh, you mean those suuuuper fancy-looking blue teardrop earrings?_

_Well, he is thirteen now. Soon milord’s gonna be searchin’ for a potential bride…_

Teresa glances up to see Oscar’s eyes still shining expectantly, and her heart does a 180 down to the lowest pits of her stomach.

“…Oscar, they’re lovely. But they aren’t meant for me.” Teresa closes the box, trying to carefully choose her next words. “They’re meant to be given to…to the woman you care most about in the world.”

But Oscar only smiles, still naively oblivious. “You _are_ that woman, Sister.”

Gods, he’s just too damned sweet.

“No. No, Oscar, what I’m saying is…” Teresa flushes, averting her gaze to the box again. “These are Dragonia family engagement heirlooms, Oscar. You’re supposed to give these to the woman you’re going to _marry_.”

Oscar blinks once, twice, thrice…and then a fiery blush springs to his cheeks, his mouth hanging open from the revelation.

“O-oh…” He lowers his gaze to the ground, and he suddenly looks like he wants to hide under a rock.

“It’s okay, Oscar!” Teresa assures quickly. “It was just a mistake, it’s the thought that counts. I really appreciate that you were going to give me something so beautiful.” She smiles comfortingly as she grabs his hand, intent on returning the heirlooms to him—

“No!” Oscar shouts, ripping his hand from her grasp, glaring at her even as his face is still bright red. “Take them, Sister! They’re _yours_.”

Teresa can only gape.

She never did forget that first kiss, when she was twelve and he was six and the whole thing was truly nothing more than an innocent misunderstanding. But now the memory pops up with a vengeance, because Oscar is thirteen and he no longer has the excuse of not understanding why it’s wrong. He knows that brother and sister cannot kiss, that brother and sister cannot _marry_. He knows, but he wants to give his engagement earrings to her regardless.

…Her little brother is in love with her.

Teresa is surprised by how little that actually surprises her.

But he’s still so young while she is an adult, and his father’s blood will always run through both of their veins, and heavens know how the Lord and Lady would react if they ever caught wind of such scandalous thoughts. This is too dangerous in too many ways for Teresa to let Oscar even entertain the notion.

“I can’t take them,” Teresa hisses, again attempting to shove them back into his hands as her own begin to tremble. “I _can’t_ , Oscar. Someday, you will want to have them so you can give them to your fiancée.”

“I don’t want any other woman!” Oscar insists, stomping his foot. But Teresa bites her lip and begs him with her eyes please, _please_ don’t say that, and once he sees just how upset she is, his face softens. “…Fine. Then don’t think of it as me giving them to you. Think of it as me asking you to hold onto them for me until that time comes that I do find this fiancée.”

Numbly, Teresa shakes her head, but words stubbornly refuse to come to her lips.

“If I want the earrings back, I’ll ask you then. I promise.” Oscar closes his hands over hers, pressing the box’s weight slightly deeper into her palms. “ _Please_ , Sister. Just accept them.”

Teresa makes the mistake of glancing up to meet his beautiful, shimmering, puppy-dog eyes, and all her resistance instantly crumbles away. She has never been able to deny him anything.

“…Alright,” Teresa concedes, closing her eyes in defeat, holding the box tight to her chest. “As you wish, Oscar.”

* * *

When Oscar is fifteen, the family sends him to the Abbey.

It’s the logical move, after all. The Advent made it so that malakhim were visible to all, and now anyone, not just those few with potential, could become a soldier against the daemons. A single, world-changing night, and suddenly, the useless bratlord of House Dragonia has become useful after all. He can be the link between their noble house and the increasingly influential Abbey. Oscar Dragonia can make a name for himself—and more importantly, create powerful connections for his family—as an exorcist.

But in this lonely, dark manor, Oscar is Teresa’s one shining light. She cannot lose him, she _refuse_ _s_ to lose him.

So she follows in his footsteps.

Together, they become trainees, and they’re both _good_. Among his classmates, Oscar’s skill with a blade is unmatched, and Teresa may not be trained in the art of the sword herself, but as it turns out, she has quite the natural talent for magic artes. Their training eats up both their schedules, though, and no longer do they have the luxury of lazy afternoons playing in the manor woods, so they have to be creative about finding the time to spend together.

Oscar is _such_ a teenage boy, sneaking out of his tent at two in the morning and convincing Teresa to do the same so they can meet up for some late-night daemon extermination. But Teresa has never been able to deny him anything, and the extra practice never hurts.

Besides, she loves simply being by his side in everything they do.

Myriad daemons wander the plains beyond the trainee camp, and the siblings move strategically in order to take them out several at a time. Oscar charges in on the attack while Teresa focuses on supporting him with artes and her staff, until together, they’ve managed to quell twenty, maybe thirty or so targets. Teresa begins summoning her magic again as the daemons unleash a new wave of attack, and as she watches Oscar fell several of them in a series of graceful strokes, a memory flashes through her head.

Ten-year-old Oscar, facing off against hordes of imaginary monsters, claiming his victory over them in childish fantasy. But no longer is it fantasy—Oscar turned sixteen less than a month ago, and he has become so, so powerful. He expertly evades the vicious attacks of his enemies, slices his sword through them as if they’re butter, strikes and dodges and parries with such sheer elegance he almost looks to be dancing. How dashing he is now: a shining white knight, the very hero that his childhood self longed to be.

Teresa is so busy watching him that she doesn’t notice when one of the werewolf daemons gets far too close, interrupting her spellcasting with a large, sweeping slash in her direction. She nearly takes it to the chest but manages to leap away just in time on reflex, the sharp claws just barely grazing her before the assailant is left briefly defenseless. Teresa instantly knocks it over the head with her staff, and while it’s stunned, mercilessly obliterates it with energy balls until its charred corpse hits the grass.

“ _Sister_!”

Oscar quickly cuts down the last three daemons surrounding him, leaving them both safe from enemies entirely for at least a half-mile off, before rushing over to her. “Sister, are you alright?!”

Teresa waves him off. “Oscar, it’s nothing, really.”

“Are you quite certain?!”

There’s nobody else around, so Teresa sighs and quickly undoes her collar, allows him to see the extent of the damage to her chest. The claws may have ripped through the front of her dress, but the injuries left on her actual person are merely skin-deep: a couple of fine lines that seep only thin smears of red, that will surely heal over with a single gel. “They’re just scratches, you see?”

Oscar’s tense expression finally goes slack, and Teresa carefully looks him over. He has a shallow gash bleeding from his shoulder but otherwise seems unharmed, a testament to his skill, and he is grinning in obvious relief that his sister is safe. Even as he’s visibly sweat-soaked and has daemon blood splashed all over his clothes and face, the moonlight shines over him in stunning radiance and Teresa is struck, not for the first time, by how he is so utterly _beautiful_.

“Thank goodness, Sister,” Oscar murmurs, his hands slowly coming up to cup the sides of her face. Teresa’s chest starts to throb dangerously but she doesn’t dare move, doesn’t dare stop him, merely stares straight into those gorgeous eyes that stare right back at her as if she’s the only thing he sees. His face inches closer, his eyes fluttering shut, his lips gently puckering, and Teresa feels not discomfort nor censure but rather heat and anticipation and _eagerness_ pooling in her stomach…

But Oscar’s eyes fly wide open, and he abruptly reels backwards.

“S-Sister, I am so sorr—”

Teresa shuts him up by smashing her mouth into his.

After her nineteenth birthday, they never talked about Oscar’s confession. Teresa shoved the engagement earrings to the back of her drawer and they continued with their lives like a normal brother and sister, because Oscar didn’t seem to want to bring it up again and Teresa was grateful he didn’t. But Teresa always knew that his professed crush had never gone away, it would always jump to the forefront of her mind as she stared at those earrings some nights before bed—and she’s not sure for how long she’s _returned_ those feelings, because she is his sister and she has _always_ loved him in some form or other.

She’s not sure for how long she’s wanted to kiss him, but what matters is that she is now, in this very moment, and Oscar is kissing her back, shyly but sweetly. His lips leave sparks that jolt through Teresa until she feels straight down to her marrow that this is _home_ —this sensation like being enveloped in Mother’s arms in the comfortable cabin of her girlhood—except, even _more_ than that. When Teresa at last pulls away, her lips are tingling, and on her tongue lingers the taste of daemon blood, and her head is spinning at a million miles an hour, but…it feels good.

_O_ _h_ , it feels good.

Oscar meets her gaze cautiously, thumbing at her cheek. “Are…are you sure about this, Sister?”

For so long, Teresa had known these feelings to be “wrong”, but that kiss just now didn’t feel anything but _right_. Oscar is no longer a child but blossoming into a man, and the threatening presence of House Dragonia no longer hovers over them like a dark dragon on the prowl. But they do share blood, and though that is the only remaining issue, it is also an utterly damning one. It is an issue that they cannot ever change, that would cause their relationship to be condemned not only by the Lord and Lady Dragonia, but by the entire world.

…Yet, this world has only ever met Teresa with disappointment and disdain. This world took her mother from her, and might dare to take her beloved brother as well. Teresa is becoming known amongst her classmates as the “Frozen Queen” for a reason—as long as she has Oscar, she is beyond the point of giving a damn about what any others think.

Nobody in this world can even hold a candle to Oscar. Blood or no blood, the love she shares with him is real, true, _pure_. Of this, Teresa is certain.

“Oh, Oscar,” she whispers, cupping his face in return, leaning in close until her words are brushing over his lips. “I have never been more sure of anything in my life.”

* * *

Months pass, and they complete their respective training programs with flying colors. They take their entrance exams and are each assigned to praetor class, consul rank—only a single step below the legates, the most elite of the elite. They go through the initiation ceremonies and welcoming festivities and emerge as two of the most powerful exorcists the Abbey has ever seen.

From then on, Teresa protects Oscar in every way she can.

One: his well-being. As far as being a solider of the Abbey, there’s always danger involved, but even so, Teresa refuses to let Oscar get in over his head if ever she can help it. She meets privately with Lord Artorius to make sure Oscar is only given assignments that are suitable, that aren’t too unpleasant, that she knows he can handle, and in turn accepts much more trying missions for herself. When Teresa can, she also goes with Oscar on his jobs to serve as support, because as strong as he is, as much as she trusts his abilities, she can’t afford to take chances.

Two: his reputation. Teresa has accepted that they are siblings who are involved, and no matter how others may denounce that, she knows with conviction that she and Oscar are not in the wrong. But even if she doesn’t care what others think of her, Oscar is too sweet, too open to other’s opinions, too easily hurt. She will not allow Oscar to bear that burden, so their relationship is kept strictly secret, and they only ever kiss in the secure privacy of either of their rooms.

Three: his innocence. Oscar is no longer a child but he is not yet fully an adult either, and as much as Teresa loves him and _wants_ him, she chooses to express restraint. She will hold him, she will kiss him, she will be his sister and his significant other and the woman he cares most about in the world. But no matter how she may long for him, or he may long for her, she convinces Oscar that they must practice abstinence until he is well and truly an adult.

Then, the very day Oscar turns eighteen, they make love.

Teresa is on the verge of _bursting_ when they fall into his bed together, and when Oscar turns his back to her in order to reach for the condoms she left on the nightstand, she’s struck with a mischievous, irresistible urge. Without warning, she tackles him from behind and tugs him backwards in her arms, as if they were children again—except now when she bites him, it’s a fierce lovebite to his neck. She sucks hard enough that it’s sure to leave a bruise before a yelping Oscar manages to shake her off, and in the resulting wrestle-spar, Teresa lets Oscar win.

He pins her down to the mattress with fire blazing in his eyes. He touches his nose to hers and hisses that she is a flirt, a tease, a _vixen_. He closes the distance entirely to kiss her _hard_ and she giggle-moans against his mouth before submitting entirely, letting him have his way with her.

They’re both completely inexperienced and somewhat clumsy, but they’re earnest and enamored and all too happy to do whatever it takes to make each other feel good. Teresa offers herself to him entirely and that’s the only gift Oscar gets that year, since his parents neglected yet again to send him anything, but ultimately, she knows it’s enough. Together, they fumble their way to glorious climax, and in the afterglow, as they lie naked and content against each other, Oscar tucks her close and murmurs into her ear, “Thank you, Sister. This was the best birthday ever.”

Teresa smiles, and kisses him again as angels sing choruses in her head.

At long last, their world is perfect.

* * *

Four months later, Oscar is sent to Titania.

Teresa would never have let him take that position if she’d had any say, but unfortunately, this one was out of her hands. Oscar had already been lined up for a relatively safe and undemanding job as a patrolling inspector, but her all-too-kindhearted brother gave it away, causing himself to be shipped off to some prison island instead. After that, Teresa couldn’t even manage to get herself assigned to the same post with him—she had already been appointed to Hellawes and there was no going back—so she could only see him off as he embarked on his risky new mission alone.

In the wake of his departure and her own dispatch to Hellawes, Teresa repeats assurances to herself as if casting mantras: Oscar is strong, Oscar can handle himself, Oscar will be fine because he _has_ to be fine. But even on the days that she manages to convince herself, she still misses him terribly, and in her agitation, she ends up falling back into her old habits as a maid. Cleaning her own bedroom is at least one way to take her mind off of things, and it’s in a particularly rigorous sweep one day that Teresa opens her bedside drawer and finds her gaze lingering on the familiar jewelry box in the back.

The engagement earrings. Teresa has kept them close ever since that day Oscar gave them to her; she stuffed them in with her luggage when she left the manor for the Abbey and always carried them in her knapsack as a trainee on the go. Even before Teresa was sure of her own feelings for Oscar, even back when looking upon the pieces made her stomach churn with uncertainty, she had still treasured the gift. Yet, they are committed to each other now, and not once has she ever actually dared to wear them.

_They’re_ _ **yours**_ _!_ Oscar’s voice from five years ago echoes in her head, and Teresa bites her lip as she opens the box.

House Dragonia has no eyes on them here, and already she and Oscar have pledged themselves to each other, not just in soul but now even in body as well. Her hesitation up until now stemmed perhaps from a lingering fear of repercussion, some nonsensical worry that displaying _any_ physical proof of her and Oscar’s relationship, no matter how utterly inaccessible the knowledge would be to those outside the family, would somehow come back to bite them.

But Oscar is far away, on a dangerous assignment where she can’t protect him. Now more than ever, Teresa _needs_ that physical proof, for her own sake.

When she checks herself in the mirror, the earrings really do suit her perfectly, matching well with her own custom-made exorcist dress and gleaming beautifully behind her golden hair. Teresa steels herself mentally and wears them out in the public the next day, and while she does turn heads with her new accessories, the gazes she draws are only ones of increased admiration. The earrings become something of a comfort item, then, as over the next several weeks, whenever Teresa catches herself worrying for Oscar, she needs only finger one of the precious gemstones in her hand in order to calm back down.

For a time, Teresa is at peace.

Then Oscar shows up in Hellawes with his left eye burned out.

…It’s not the end of the world, she says, in an attempt to assure both him and herself. He is missing an eye but he is still alive, still capable of fighting, and he can now be sent on safer missions once again. He is so strong, and he will move past this, and the reprehensible daemon who hurt him will _pay_ , mark her words.

They don’t get to make love in Hellawes, they don’t have the time before Oscar is already gone, but they make up for it as much as they can in the months after.

They make love in Loegres in the hours after Lord Artorius’s speech, finally celebrating their reunion properly as they gasp between frantic kisses how they’ve each missed this _so damn much_. They make love in the aftermath of the Empyrean’s Throne, Oscar fluttering his lips gently over each of the places where burns were left by Number Two’s explosive attack, murmuring over and over for her never to scare him like that again. They make love in Yseult before Oscar goes off on his assignment to Haria, Teresa thumbing his cheek and kissing the bandage over his eye and promising him that he’s brilliant, he’s powerful, and here, he’s going to prove himself again.

But no matter how she comforts him, his failures pile up. No matter how fiercely they fight, the daemon Velvet continues to roam free. Until at last, Oscar is forced to acquire the experimental arte that Teresa _cannot_ allow him to unleash.

She has always protected him. Now more than ever, she _must_ protect him.

Innominat reaches out to her, and Teresa forms her plan.

* * *

Teresa dies with tears in her eyes and numbness taking over her limbs, reaching her hand out desperately for Oscar but unable to do more than let it fall weakly upon his own, wishing beyond all hope and to her very last breath that she could have pulled him in and kissed him, just one last time.

* * *

Musiphe awakens with the memories and vessel of a woman named Teresa Linares.

Musiphe is not Teresa. She is an Empyrean with all the fires of the world at her command, and her powers are meant to be used in ways that the exorcist Teresa may never have approved. Her role is to push back the Suppression brought about by Innominat, and so too is she joined by the other three. Specifically, so too does the power of Hyanoa brush against her in cooperation, his winds fueling her flames, and there is some respite in knowing that she can feel him.

That somewhere beneath him, she can feel Oscar Dragonia as well.

Musiphe and Hyanoa are not Teresa and Oscar. They are not siblings, nor are they lovers. They are the gods of this world reborn and they have a purpose to fulfill, a world to keep in balance, a task far greater than their past human incarnations could have ever hoped to challenge.

But in some manner, they do hold Teresa and Oscar within them.

And in some manner, Teresa and Oscar are together again.


End file.
